“It’s true,” Jack squeezed Rachel. “And I was super-psyched to see this one out and about. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to lure her away from Rainbow Harbor and into a personal life?”
“I’m working on that too.” May winked.
“So, are we all in?” George asked. “Christmas Eve—seven o’clock?”
Jack looked to Demarco and Abigail for approval.
“We’d be delighted,” Demarco said. “It’s very gracious of you to offer.”
“I love it.” George grinned. “We’ll make a big night of it.”
Chapter 22
On the way home, Mikey’s surprise was a stop atFrancesca’s Bakery and Coffee Shopin Little Italy. The crowd there was much more subdued than the one they left behind in the streets of Hampden—only a handful of folks keeping warm in the cozy bistro, sipping cappuccinos and indulging in sugary confections. Mikey led them toward a table by the fireplace.
“This is wonderful, Mikey,” said Rachel. “Thank you for keeping me from gorging on cheap churros earlier.”
“Francesca’shas been a second home to me for a long time—especially on my days off. Our house is small, sometimes noisy, so I come here to read. I live around the corner. It’s close.”
“Wow,” said George, already over at the pastry case. “They havethreedifferent kinds of cheese straws! I may never leave.”
“Hey, Mikey,” said a woman approaching them. “I’m not used to seeing you in here so late.”
“Hi, Francesca. We just came from the lights on 34th.”
“How nice. You must be freezing. Move that table closer to the fire if you need to.”
“These are my DC friends. I wanted to bring them to the best bakery in Little Italy.”
“This one,” Francesca said, nodding to Mikey, “he’s such a sweetie. What can I get for you all? I have fresh chocolate Napoleons and some new eggnog eclairs that are... magnifici.”
“Coffees all around,” said George, joining them. “Is that OK?”
“Yes, but decaf for me.”
“Decaf for Rachel,” George continued, “and bring us two of the eclairs and two Napoleons. We’ll share. And I want two orders of cheese straws to go.”
“What kind?” Francesca asked. “Cheddar, Parmesan, or Gorgonzola?”
George couldn’t decide. “Can you do a variety?”
“I sure can.”
“Then mix them up. Also, two orders of the wedding cookies. I don’t know how many that is.”
“Twenty in each. They’re small.”
“Then, make it sixteen in each, and bring the other eight over here to the table.”
Francesca laughed. “I like your friend, Mikey. He knows what he wants.”
“Yes, I do,” said George, his hand on Mikey’s knee. He gave it a little squeeze.
“Coffee’s coming. Make yourself at home.”
“Well, Mikey,” May said, “you’ve outdone yourself. This has been a spectacular evening. Thanks for including us.”
“Thanks for coming and letting me share a little bit of Baltimore with you guys.”
